Chapter Text
No man had ever dared to venture so far into his territory. At least not without swords, shields, or a retinue to support them. None had been brave enough— or stupid enough— to arrive alone at the mouth of his cave in nothing but a tattered tunic, one sandal, and a bruised ankle.
The young man before him looked as miserable as a fledgling fallen from its nest. Wet from head to toe, he had a wound on his knee with fresh blood; and on his elbows, scrapes that had not had enough time to heal yet. In addition to carrying with him the scent of myrtles, his hair was full of twigs and weeds; and beneath the damp locks, two enormous eyes looked back at him with fear and a mixture of expectation.
The centaur, whose name was Risotto, felt a little compassion moving inside his chest. He advanced towards the young man, who took two steps back, back towards the storm.
“Speak. What are you doing here, boy?”
The young man, shivering from the cold, opened his lips to answer, but instead of words, a sneeze shook his entire body. The boy brought his hands to his face to hide the trickle of slimy water that hung down to his chin, and prayed that the centaur had not seen him (He, indeed, had seen him, but he did not care).
Risotto shook his ears to shoo away a mosquito that was hovering around his head, and let out a sigh that seemed like a complain but also a sign of peace.
“Come in. Do not stand in the rain. And clean your nose,” said Risotto, entering the cave, the dark fur of his rump blending in with the obsidian walls.
The young man flinched, suprised, wiped his nose with the back of his hand, and hobbled after Risotto, incredulous that he had been able to convince the fearsome centaur so easily.
“Sit down,” the centaur invited the boy in an authorative tone, as he returned with a bowl in his hand and a cloak hanging from his arm.
The young man looked for a place near the brazier and dropped down on the ground with relief, since there was nothing in the entire cave that could serve as a seat. The boy stretched out his hands towards the embers. The centaur handed him the cloak, which the young man wrapped himself in, and the bowl that had a good portion of salted venison that tasted like the most delicious thing in the world after several days of intermittent meals.
Arms crossed over his chest, Risotto looked at the visitor attentively, still distrusting the human. When the young man finished devouring the meat, he wiped his mouth slopily. And he remained silent. He seemed to fall into a sudden drowsiness, the embers flickering in his tired eyes, which shone with a certain happiness. The centaur circled around the small fire to be closer to the young man and demand answers as he made him look up.
"I am Doppio," he said at last, his head full of magenta hair was the only thing that stood out from beneath the white wool cape that Risotto wore for the winter, that on this so called Doppio was like a giant cloak “Augur of the Sardinians”.
Risotto raised his eyebrows, incredulous at first, but then putting the ideas together in his head to make sense of why someone like Doppio could arrive at his home in such a way, unannounced, he believed him. Risotto took the empty bowl from Doppio's hands and went for another one that had sweet wine instead.
“And what brings you to my cave, Doppio, augur of the Sardinians?”
The question made the young man blush, and he preferred to stare at the wine rather than at the centaur. As if to gain courage, Doppio tipped the bowl and took a big sip.
“I have dreamed of you for a long time, Risotto” Doppio declared, his voice hoarse from the liquor.
The centaur was surprised. He did not remember having told him his name.
“Dreams of fortune or tragedy?”
“Fortune… Maybe? It depends…”
Doppio sank into the cloak. A little further and he would disappear under it.
Risotto was getting fed up with the intrigue, but he restrained himself and asked in a calm tone:
“What fortune is this?”
The face that had previously been devoid of color was beginning to regain it with the heat of the fire, the wine and the question. Doppio glanced quickly at Risotto and, meeting the centaur's intrigued eyes, looked away towards the mouth of the cave. The storm was still raging through the forest. I am already here, he thought. And he had nowhere else to go.
Doppio straightened up. The miserable image that Risotto had seen just a moment ago took on the appearance of an oracle. A human vessel with an eternal gaze that declares inexorable fates. And Risotto had no doubt that this young man was something special, that some divine force was working through him.
"You will be the love of my life, and I will be yours," Doppio said. "I do not know how it will happen or when it will happen. My dreams have been insistent; the signs in the sky and the birdsongs have told me so too. That is why I decided to find you…”
As it was not in Risotto's nature to laugh, he did not.
The centaur raised his head, huffing. The idea that his fate was linked to that of a human seemed absurd. Perhaps it would have been better to shoot an arrow right into Doppio’s heart, he mused; the boy would not have suffered, and he could have enjoyed a long nap while the storm passed. He relished the idea of killing the augur, but quickly dismissed it when he noticed Doppio again, sniffling without having sneezed.
Doppio jumped to his feet. He bit his lip to bear the pain of putting his weight on his twisted ankle.
"I am sorry, I do not know why I came here," he said, turning his face toward the entrance of the cave.
Risotto grabbed him by the collar of his tunic, because, due to the difference in height, it was the only thing within reach. The centaur rolled his eyes, letting out a bitter sigh of resignation.
“You can stay” he said, not referring to the supposed future they would share together. “Rest. You will leave when you can walk better. I'll try to fix your tunic” and looking at his own hooves, he added, “but don't expect me to do anything about the sandals…”
Doppio swallowed his tears and the shy shadow of a smile appeared on his face.
“I appreciate it. You are very kind”.
A gust of air blew into the cave, spreading the scent of the blooming myrtles further, fanning the embers for a moment. Suddenly, the centaur's home felt warmer and brighter. Kind? No one had ever called him that, and even less with such a gentle expression. Risotto responded with a loud huff from his nose and turned his back to look for his herbs and bandages.